


A Relatively Quiet Week

by mathmusic8



Series: Inspired by WishfulThinking1979's "Empire Reimagined" AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dr. Henley (Wishfulthinking1979's OC), Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Please tell me if there's typos, Set in Wishfulthinking1979's Empire Reimagined AU, various other ocs - Freeform, which is one of the best AUs I've ever read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathmusic8/pseuds/mathmusic8
Summary: In which a few people say "Nope, not today", which is a pretty regular occurrence for them, so really, it's just another day.Also in which Anakin makes progress with his family.
Series: Inspired by WishfulThinking1979's "Empire Reimagined" AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021743
Comments: 21
Kudos: 42





	1. A Mother, a Rescue, and a Step in the Right Direction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wishfulthinking1979](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishfulthinking1979/gifts).



> As a forewarning, I’m way, way out of my depth here and I know it. I’m relatively new to the Star Wars fandom (i.e. I’ve only seen the moves/shows/games and read fanfiction hahaha), and I also have next to zero experience in anything military or medical. But, I had a thought, and I wanted to see where it went.
> 
> Set in Wishfulthinking1979’s Empire Reimagined AU

Anakin had been training Luke in some of the finer points of Force-enhanced acrobatics recently, so he was relatively unsurprised when Veers contacted him to let him know that Luke had managed to break his leg in a bad fall during a sparring match. Because of course he had. The boy was brilliant, no doubt about that, but also extremely disaster prone. He was his father’s son, after all.

A short walk to the medical bay later gave Anakin the satisfaction of seeing Luke’s sheepish grin while a holding an ice pack to his very swollen leg.

“Where is Dr. Henley?” Anakin asked. The prickly doctor rarely missed an opportunity like this to remind them that for all their “Force magic,” his skills were still indispensable.

Luke’s smile vanished. “You remember the defector on the _Fang_?”

Anakin nodded. A brave Imperial lieutenant had contacted an old friend stationed on the Lady expressing desires to defect, and that got him in contact with the New Republic's intelligence officers. He’d been providing valuable information for over six months before he came under scrutiny. An extraction team was standing by to pull him out, but then the coordination call between the lieutenant and the team had been interrupted by stormtroopers. High Command could only listen to the sounds of a desperate struggle before the lieutenant managed to destroy the commlink. No one had heard from him or his extraction team since.

Luke continued, “We were able to find his wife before the Imperials and brought her here. She went into labor when she heard we lost contact with him. They pulled in Dr. Henley due to some complications.”

A shiver crawled down Anakin’s spine, but he reminded himself that as arrogant and insufferable as Henley was, he was the very best man for the job.

Still, looking down at his son and his bright blue eyes, Anakin could not shake off the echoes of his Force visions from so long ago. In fact, the Force seemed to thrust them at his mind all over again, and Anakin set a hand on the bulkhead to steady himself.

“Father?”

Luke, his son, his beautiful blue-eyed son, reached out to him, and Anakin allowed himself to relish his presence in the Force. His son was alive.

And his daughter was too.

_Father? Are you alright?_

Despite the fact that Leia was in a delicate negotiation meeting planet-side, she had sensed Anakin’s distress and tentatively reached out through their bond to check on him.

He didn’t deserve either of their concern, but they gave it anyway.

_Yes, Leia. I am alright._

He’d been willing to do the unthinkable to save them, to save _her_ , and he had failed.

Now, perhaps he could save someone else.

Someone else’s Padme.

—

“Sir, we’re losing her!”

A baby’s feeble cry droned in the background as Henley gave rapid fire orders. His team responded expertly, but still, the new young mother on his table was dying with her baby in her arms.

Henley’s actions slowed for a moment—medically speaking, there wasn’t anything more he could do. They had reached that critical juncture that sometimes happens where the patient has to _choose_ to live. He didn’t even know her name—he’d been pulled into the operation very suddenly—but she was his patient, and he was Dr. Henley. He would not, _could_ _not_ , accept defeat. Henley touched her shoulder and she looked at him with dim eyes, her dark curly hair framing her face.

“He’s a beautiful baby, ma’am. Nine pounds and ten ounces—a real chunker. Lots of hair, too, for a newborn. He’ll grow tall and strong, won’t he? Make a fine soldier someday. He needs you, though. He needs his mother.”

A hush had gradually fallen over the medbay as he spoke. Henley didn’t care. A small spark had lit in his patient’s eyes, but it wasn’t enough to stop her plummeting vitals. Henley kept talking.

“Have you chosen a name for him?”

The young mother closed her eyes briefly and gave a small shake of her head.

“I mean, you could always name him Henley, after myself, and he’d be destined for greatness. Or Victor, if you’d prefer.”

A watery smile broke over her face, and she shook her head again.

“No? Well, I’m afraid you won’t be able to do much better. I am the best, you know.”

A warmer smile this time, but her eyes were taking on that glassy look that made Henley’s stomach clench. Someone was sniffling, and Henley snapped up to a glare at the hapless young nurse wiping his eyes. _Don’t kill my patient by mourning too soon, you idiot._

“J . . . ,” the young mother struggled to breathe, but was determined, if nothing else, to name her child before she died. “. . Jonathan . . . .”

Someone came to the other side of the operating table. Henley wouldn’t have cared, or noticed, if they weren’t wearing black—a stark contrast to the white medical uniforms—and he blinked up to see his Lordship.

“What are you doing here, my Lord?” _Who the kriff let you in here??_

Without a word, or even a glance in Henley’s direction, Anakin set a hand on the young mother’s shoulder, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.

She suddenly began breathing deeply, and Henley watched in fascination as her vitals stopped their plunging dive and slowly began to climb back to where they should be.

_Kriffing jedi and their space magic._

Given the raw emotions in the room, Henley decided not to actually say that aloud—at least this time—but a small smirk on his Lordship’s face meant that he’d heard.

Well, good.

—

Two days later, four smoking, sparking lambdas came out of hyperspace and limped towards the Lady. Hails from the bridge went unanswered, but a quick analysis of the damage to the ships confirmed that they’d probably caught in some kind of explosion—all of their comms were probably knocked out. Out of an abundance of caution, a squad was sent out to ascertain exactly who, or what, was coming towards them.

The recent loss of their lieutenant defector on the _Fang_ had them all on high alert, since no one could tell for sure if their agent had been captured or killed. The lieutenant probably wouldn’t have been able to give much to the Imperials—he’d given more information than he’d received—but the fact that his extraction team had gone radio silent was especially concerning. If _they_ had been captured, the Lady’s position might be compromised.

If it weren’t for the precarious negotiations Leia was heading on the planet below them, Piett would have moved the Lady immediately.

Piett watched from the viewport on the bridge as the lead lambda was boarded, and several tense minutes passed.

Nothing exploded, so there was that.

Finally, the bridge comms came to life. “This is Commander Ashurst. I’m pleased to report that the mission was a success, sir, and we’re bringing in about 50 new Imperial defectors as well.”

It was the head of the extraction team.

Apparently, he’d made some friends.

A quiet thrill went through the bridge—eyes lit up, smiles were exchanged, but they held a respectful silence so their commanding officer could respond.

“That’s wonderful news, commander,” Piett said, smoothly hiding his remaining concerns. They were stuck in this sector for at least two more days by Leia’s estimation, but if their position was compromised, they may need to abandon the negotiations early. “Are you reasonably sure you weren’t tracked?” Piett asked.

The commander answered confidently enough. “Yes, sir.”

“I do hope you’re right, commander,” Piett said with a bit of a sigh.

There was a bit of laughter from the men in the background, and Piett raised his eyebrows at their lack of decorum. They couldn’t see him, of course, but the commander had the dignity to apologize, despite the smile in his voice.

“Sorry sir, but all due respect sir, ‘reasonably sure’ is a bit of an understatement. We blew up the _Fang_ , sir.”

Piett blinked.

Alright then.

“Very good, commander. I expect a full debrief after you arrive.”

“Copy that, sir.”

—

Due to his injuries from a rather heated interrogation, Lieutenant Jonathan Delayni required assistance to walk out of the lambda, which Commander Ashurst was happy to provide. It would take time and bacta for Delayni to heal, but Commander Ashurst had reached the interrogation room just as he’d reached his breaking point. Delayni would be eternally grateful for that.

There were medics swarming the bay, and one of them approached with a gravsled and smiled brightly. “Lieutenant Delayni?”

“That’s me,” Delayni nodded, and flinched at his own raspy voice.

“Alright, sir, let’s get you to medical. Your wife is waiting for you there.”

Delayni’s eyes widened, and he grasped at Commander Ashurst as his legs decided it was a good time to turn to jelly. “Maggie?” he breathed. “Maggie’s alright?”

“Yes, sir, and I think she’ll be very glad to see you.”

Commander Ashurst helped the medic get Delayni onto the gravsled and grasped his hand in farewell. When Delayni realized the commander wasn’t coming with him, he looked mildly panicked. Commander Ashurst had been a constant assuring presence in the insanity of the last two days, had literally pulled him off the interrogation rack, and Delayni didn’t know who else he could trust on this strange ship full of people that had been considered the enemy just a short while ago. Delayni grasped at Commander Ashurst’s sleeve desperately. “Commander—!”

“It’s alright, Delayni.” Commander Ashurst caught his gaze and held it. “Go see your wife. That’s an order.”

The tension in Delayni’s shoulders dropped and he nodded. If Commander Ashurst said it was safe, then it was safe. “Yes, sir.”

The journey to the medical bay was a blur. Delayni was vaguely aware of the medic talking to him, but he couldn’t remember anything he’d said.

The next moment of clarity came when Delayni was in a bed, and someone was calling his name.

Maggie. Maggie was here, and she was calling him.

Delayni turned to her, and she smiled brilliantly at him. He reached up to touch her dark, curly hair, just to make sure it was real, that he wasn't hallucinating. “I missed you,” he whispered.

She nodded, eyes bright with tears. “Likewise, darling.”

There was a small squeak behind Maggie, and she smiled even bigger. “Someone else missed you, too.”

Delayni was confused. “What?”

Maggie twisted in her seat and carefully picked up a bundle of blankets, and that—

That was a baby.

Maggie was laying a baby in his arms.

A baby with Maggie’s shock of black hair and Delayni's mess of freckles.

It had been over six months since Delayni had been in contact with his wife—they had agreed that it would be safer that way while he was spying for the New Republic. It had been agony for her to keep that silence after she’d found out she was expecting, but with her own, her husband’s, and the unborn child’s lives on the line, she hadn’t dared take the chance.

And now they were together and safe at last.

Maggie slid her arms around her husband’s broad shoulders. “I named him Jonathan, after a very brave lieutenant who decided to do something very hard because it was right. Do you think it fits?”

“If you say it does, my darling, then I won’t argue.” Jonathan Jr. snuffled and Delayni held him close to his chest, blinking back tears of joy. “Hello, son.”

—

Several days later, Leia’s negotiations had finally, _finally_ finished and another ally joined the New Republic. The Lady was shortly on the move again, and a bit of a celebration dinner was held in Anakin’s quarters while the swirling blues of hyperspace sped passed the viewports. Anakin sat at the head of the table, with Piett, Leia, and Solo on his left hand and Luke and Veers on his right. Leia had the floor for the first half hour or so, sharing stories of politicians firing thinly veiled insults at each other for days on end. One day, a delegate had issued a blatant threat that very nearly caused a planet-wide civil war, and it had taken several hours to diffuse the situation. The delegates had seemed very impressed by Leia’s calm handle of the issue, which helped tremendously for the rest of the negotiations.

“Well done, my dear,” Piett said, patting her hand.

Leia kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Admiral.”

“Your mother would have been proud,” Anakin said softly.

Luke and Leia both looked up sharply at that, and a bright smile lit Leia’s face.

Luke tipped his chair back on two legs to lean against the wall. Anakin leveled a warning look at his son, but Luke smiled cheekily at him and and clasped his hands over his stomach, the picture of contentment. Then he turned to Solo and asked, “Well, did you enjoy your vacation, Han?”

Solo sighed, “Yeah, well, being stuck in the capitol for six days was kriffing boring for my part—they didn’t even let me in to watch her Worship in action. Anything fun happen up here?”

“You could say that,” Luke chuckled.

“A holonet soap opera could be written on this last week,” Veers agreed.

Leia glanced at her father meaningfully. She hadn’t forgotten his dark flare of grief over the Force, brief as it had been.

Solo raised his eyebrows. “That bad?”

“Not bad,” Piett corrected. “Just . . . dramatic.”

Veers sighed. “The way my men are behaving, you’d think they’d never seen a baby before.”

“We have a baby on board?” Leia asked in a bemused voice.

Piett nodded with a smile. “It’s a very long story as to why, but yes, Jonathan Delayni Jr. was the very first child to be born on a Super Star Destroyer. Despite some complications, the mother and baby are doing well, thanks to Dr. Henley and your father.”

“ _Admiral_ ,” Anakin said in a low warning voice.

However, the damage was done.

Everyone was looking at him very expectantly. Even Luke had quietly pushed off the wall and sat properly again.

Anakin sighed.

“I provided some minor Force healing to the mother.”

“Henley let you in the medbay?” Veers marveled.

“I let myself in,” Anakin said with something close to a huff. “It’s my ship, I go where I want.”

Leia was chewing her lip ponderously, and Anakin saw the question forming in her eyes before she said it out loud. “But how did you know you were needed? Henley didn’t _ask_ you to come, did he?”

“Indeed not,” Anakin smirked briefly. He looked down at the table for a moment. He could brush this off very easily—he was a master at evasion, after all. But something in the Force was stirring inside him, and he felt that it was time to tell his children, his _family_ , something he’d kept very close to his heart.

“My wife . . . .” His traitorous throat closed on him, but he took a breath and continued on. “My wife died in childbirth.”

He looked up and saw faces of shock and, in the cases of his children, grim enlightenment.

“I had . . . been plagued with visions of her death, beforehand. The Force reminded me of them and sent me to the medbay, presumably to prevent it from happening to someone else.”

The rest of the table was still and silent, but Leia reached past Piett to take her father’s clenched hand. “I’m so glad you were able to help her. Thank you for telling us, Father,” she said softly, “I know it wasn’t easy.”

Anakin rubbed his daughters knuckles with his thumb and allowed her presence to sooth away the lingering grief.

There was a moment of silence, but when it was clear his father wouldn’t continue, Luke, bless him, gracefully changed the subject. “The baby’s Force sensitive, too, so we’ll be staying in contact with them—we’ll see if he wants to be trained when he’s older.”

The conversation continued from there into safer, less emotional waters. Piett did take a moment to catch Anakin’s eye, however, and nod slightly, radiating how pleased he was that Anakin had trusted them with something so close to him.

It was trust well earned, in Anakin’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How the _Fang_ was destroyed and the lambdas' comms were knocked out:
> 
> It took four lambdas to fit them all, but they didn’t think the New Republic would mind receiving a few extra ships along with fifty new defectors. They flew smoothly out of the hanger, and Commander Ashurst grinned at the sight of a cloud of escape pods hovering around the _Fang_.
> 
> The commander looked over to their new friend from engineering and nodded. “Nice thinking staging a reactor leak, Davis. It’ll take them _days_ to get everyone back on board.”
> 
> “Oh, the reactor leak wasn’t staged.”
> 
> “...what.”
> 
> “I mean, a false alarm would’ve been disabled pretty quickly, so I—”
> 
> BOOM
> 
> Sometimes I like to think about how grand adventures look from the perspective of those who weren’t directly involved. If I had the time, patience, and know-how, I think Lieutenant Delayni’s rescue could’ve been a full novel-length fic, but since I do not, I took the outside perspective and still enjoyed it. I hope you did as well.


	2. And the Birds tell the Flowers “Good Morning”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, a little boy shows great talent in listening to the people he loves through the Force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night I was heading to bed and had an idea. I started to jot it down, and when I looked up it was two hours later and I had this cute little pointless fluffy scene.

Raising a Force-sensitive child was both parts an honor and a challenge. Ever since he could talk, Jonathan Jr. (affectionately called J.J.) had startled his parents by dropping random revelations into their everyday lives. The topics varied widely—sometimes he predicted the weather, or just knew if someone needed help. Sometimes is was vague ( _A lot of people are sad today, Mama_.) and sometimes it wasn't ( _Mama, Grandpa wants to talk to you, but he doesn't know how to call you_.).

Five years old and full of life, the child barely seemed to stop moving to sleep at night, and most of his pleasant jabbering was perfectly typical of little boys his age.

Today, however, it was not.

"Daddy misses you."

Maggie looked up sharply from folding laundry on her kitchen table. J.J. sat at the end of the table, swinging his legs from his chair and looking at her over his half eaten sandwich.

"He's eating a sandwich, too, just like me! But mine tastes better because _you_ made it, and _everything_ you make tastes good," J.J. told her proudly. He paused his leg swinging for a moment and scrunched up his freckled face as he amended, "But not wekkan sprouts*. Those _never_ taste good."

Maggie picked up a towel and began folding it slowly. "Really?" she asked, smiling at her son's absolute certain tone.

J.J.'s leg swinging continued, and he took another bite of his sandwich, speaking around it. "Uh-huh. Daddy thinks so, too,"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, honey," Maggie reminded. She was surprised, though--did her husband really dislike wekkan sprouts? He had never told her so, and always cleared his plate whenever she cooked them. Perhaps she would ask him when he returned from his latest deployment.

J.J. finished swallowing his food and reached for a cup of blue milk, but then he paused and looked up at his mother with those bright brown eyes of his.

"Daddy misses your voice."

The corners of Maggie's eyes burned for a moment—It had been nearly a month since their last holocall, and she missed her husband dearly—but she took a deep breath, set aside the towel, and sat beside her son. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. Everyone around him is a boy, and they all talk the same, _like this_." J.J. did his best impression of his father's baritone, and Maggie had to hide a smile at the resulting cuteness.

J.J. looked back down at his food contemplatively. "It's really hot where Daddy is. There's lots and lots of really big trees, and that makes it hard for him to stay close to the other guys, and that makes it scary. There's lots of animals, too, and birds, and flowers, and Daddy remembered a song you sing about birds and flowers, and so he missed you."

It took Maggie a moment of reflection to think of the song her husband might have remembered, so far away on some jungle planet, but then it came it her. It was a small little ditty she often sang to herself without even thinking about it as she worked around the house. Her heart twisted when she thought of her brave lieutenant missing his wife sing about birds telling the flowers good morning.

"We should sing it for him," J.J. declared suddenly. He climbed down from his chair and then hoisted himself into his mother's lap. Maggie wrapped her arms around her little boy and he leaned into her, tickling her chin with his short black hair. Any longer and his hair curled into tight ringlets, like his mother's. Once J.J. announced he was ready, they began to sing.

—

Far, far away, Lieutenant Jonathan Delayni whirled around and raised his blaster rifle at the sound of voices behind him, but there was nothing there but trees, trees, and more trees. And bushes. And probably snakes.

Still, two hauntingly familiar voices seemed to call out to him in a light chant, and as he listened carefully, he realized he recognized the tune, and then the words.

_...and the little blue birds they see_

_Some little bluebells and sing,_

_"Good morning! Good morning!_

_Such a lovely rain we had,_

_Helping us feel so glad!_

_Good morning! Good morning!_

Lieutenant Delayni lowered his blaster—nearly dropped it, actually—and for the first time that day, he smiled.

From halfway across the galaxy, his wife and child were singing for him.

"Everything alright, Lieutenant?"

Delayni looked up at Commander Skywalker, who was smiling knowingly at him.

"Yes sir!" Delayni answered. He hesitated a moment, unsure how to even ask the questions buzzing around his mind, but Commander Skywalker spared him the trouble.

"I felt someone reach out to you through the Force. Your son?"

Delayni's shoulders dropped in relief because one, he wasn't crazy; two, his little boy's powers were probably normal if Skywalker was this casual about it; and three, he hadn't even had to ask the commander any poorly-worded, embarrassing questions this time. "Yes, sir."

They continued stalking forward through the forest, looking for some kind of village where they would hopefully find an agent who had critical information for the New Republic. Why the agent had chosen to go to ground on a Force-forsaken humid snake-infested jungle planet, Delayni would never know.

"And he's alright?" the commander asked.

Delayni's eyes widened a bit at the realization that his son might someday reach out to him like this when he _wasn't_ alright, but he backpedaled quickly from that train of thought. "Yes, sir. Him and the wife were just, erm, singing to me."

The lieutenant realized that his son must've sensed his intense pining from a few minutes earlier during their quick lunch break, given the choice of the song and the accompaniment of his wife's bright, lilting voice.

Luke smiled more broadly and nodded. "I'm glad your people keep tabs on you, Lieutenant. That's pretty impressive for his age."

"Thank you, sir."

—

Back at the kitchen table, Maggie rocked her son in her arms for a few minutes after they finished their song. J.J. inevitably grew restless and squirmed, but she tightened her grip and tickled him a moment, just to hear him laugh. Once they were finished, he squirmed again, clearly intent in finishing his lunch, and Maggie let him slide back down to the floor.

She returned to folding towels, asking in passing, "Do you think Daddy heard us?"

"Uh-huh!" J.J. replied with a bright smile lighting up his freckled little face. "He's a lot happier now!"

"That's good." Maggie smiled to herself, and she was humming as she carried the folded laundry to the cupboards. She was a lot happier now, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * something similar to brussels sprouts
> 
> My ideas usually come to me with a line or two of dialogue and an accompanying feeling of how it resolves.  
> For the last one, the first line and concept were:  
> “Sir, we’re losing her!”  
>  _Darth Vadar saves her, since he wasn’t there to save Padme._
> 
> The line and concept that started this fic were:  
> “Daddy misses you.” and “Daddy misses your voice.”  
>  _They sing for him, and J.J. makes sure his daddy hears._


	3. Just One of Those Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I knew as soon as I wrote that last chapter that there _would_ be a time J.J. reaches out to Delayni when he’s in trouble. It just took a while for me to formulate what it would look like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the abundance of OCs. We do get a brief cameo/mention of Wishfulthinking97’s characters, but that’s about it, I’m afraid.

Maggie was running hard down the dirt road, but she knew she couldn't maintain it for long.

Running and Maggie had never been on speaking terms with each other, and they weren't now, either—even if, for perhaps the first time in her life, she wanted to be.

Maggie and J.J. had been targeted by . . . she actually wasn’t sure. Imperials, she supposed. She didn’t exactly stop to ask when they had kicked her door down.

Thank the Force Maggie had been in the kitchen with J.J. playing by her feet, right by the back door and out of sight of the main entry way. She had scooped up her little boy and bolted before she even laid eyes on the troopers.

_I left the stove on,_ Maggie realized. It was strange, really, how mundane little thoughts she could have when she was running for her life, J.J. clinging tightly to her.

She just needed to make it to the market. Her husband was there, and he would be able call for help, since Maggie had left her comlink on the kitchen counter.

But her lungs were burning, legs turning to rubber, and Maggie knew she wouldn’t make it to the market—she knew it even before she stepped on a sandy spot in the road and went sprawling.

If she’d had her hands free, she might’ve been able to catch herself, but as it was, she barely managed to twist as she fell so she wouldn’t crush her son, who still screamed shrilly in her ear all the way down.

Even as she scraped her hands and knees and face on the rough earth, all Maggie could think was that she hoped their pursuers hadn’t heard that.

Maggie pushed herself onto her hands and knees, but she was shaking so badly, and there didn’t seem to be enough oxygen in the whole galaxy to satisfy her lungs.

“ _Maggie_??”

Maggie looked up and sobbed in utter relief. Mr. and Mrs. Skovinzki, her elderly neighbors, were clearly walking back from the market, but Mrs. Skovinzki dropped her basket at the side of the road and rushed forward with her husband to help Maggie to her feet. The old woman picked up J.J. and hushed his cries, and Maggie gasped out . . . some sort of explanation, she was sure, but she was too distraught to know what she was actually saying.

Whatever words left her mouth seemed to communicate the problem, however, and the elderly couple guided her off the road and into a deep irrigation ditch that had a few inches of water in it. They walked quietly through the muddy water back towards town, Maggie tucked under Mr. Skovinzki’s strong arm and Mrs. Skovinzki following up behind, carrying J.J..

Mr. Skovinzki kept up a soft murmur of encouragement throughout their walk. “That’s it, Ms. Maggie, easy does it now, you was running a good long time, weren’tcha? You was so brave, Ms. Maggie, you reacted just like you was supposed ‘ta. ‘s alright now, we’ll getchu to the market and find that husband of yores.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Mrs. Skovinzki fretted behind them. “Darling, you don’t suppose they got to him first, do you?”

Little J.J. made an indignant sound. “ _No_ , Daddy’s coming _here_ , because I told him where we are, and he’s coming to rescue us,” he explained as condescendingly as a six your old could.

Maggie glanced back at him and saw that he was sitting back in Mrs. Skovinzki’s arms and glaring angrily at the hapless old lady. Her dear little boy thought his father was indestructible. “J.J. . . . are you sure . . . Daddy knows where we are?” Maggie asked, still fighting to get her breathing under control.

She felt Mr. and Mrs. Skovinzki exchange a glance over her head, but she only had eyes for J.J., who got that distant look for a moment. Then he blinked and nodded, “Uh-huh! He’s coming from the other side of the water, you’ll see!”

“Wait, stop,” Mr. Skovinzki said quietly, and they all froze.

stomp-stomp-stomp-Stomp-Stomp-Stomp

A troop was marching down the road from Maggie’s home.

Stomp-Stomp-Stomp-STOMP-STOMP-

“ _Halt_!”

The company stopped beside the spot they had entered the ditch.

Mrs. Skovinzki’s eyes widened all of the sudden and she flung a hand out to her husband, mouthing _The basket._

She had left her basket on the side of the road, directly across from their hiding place.

—

Lieutenant Jonathan Delayni was desperately pushing his speeder to dangerous speed when he thought he heard this son scream _STOP!_

Delayni slammed on his breaks and pressed his hands to his eyes, suddenly feeling as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, he was so cold and clammy. His son was afraid, that much was clear. What was happening? Had they been caught?

“J.J., talk to me,” Delayni begged under his breath. He didn’t understand how, but he knew J.J. could hear him—he could feel his son’s feelings even stronger than his own, and it was hugely overwhelming.

_The bad guys are looking for us!_ J.J.’s disembodied voice said. _We have to be very, very quiet!_

“Be brave, son. I’m on my way,” Delayni whispered, trying to soothe away the fear paralyzing the both of them over their bond.

Luckily, J.J. was at that age that he trusted his parents implicitly. _I’ll be brave, just like you, Daddy!_

Delayni took in a deep breath and release it slowly, reaching for his comlink. “Commander, how close are your men?”

“We’ll be at the house in ten minutes, Lieutenant,” Commander Fox answered promptly. Delayni latched onto the man’s cool confidence and let it steady himself.

A small detachment of men had recently been stationed to follow the Delayni family at a distance in case of this exact scenario. Delayni had complained to his wife that his superiors were being paranoid about his son’s growing force presence. He wasn’t complaining anymore.

Delayni would never forget the terror of hearing his child scream from three miles away—not that he’d actually _heard_ the scream, but Force magic and all, he might as well have.

Gathering himself, Delayni slipped easily back into his military mindset. “They aren’t at the house, sir, they’re in a ditch close by the road to the market. My . . . my son says the troops are close to them, sir.”

The briefest pause, then, “Understood. Hold position, Lieutenant, or better yet find some cover. We’ll be there momentarily.”

“Yes sir.” Delayni disconnected the call and guided his speeder to the side of the road. Leaving the speeder, he quickly lowered himself into the ditch and drew his side arm as he stalked forward as quietly as he could.

If he was going to find cover, he might as well find it closer to his family.

—

Maggie was cold.

She was terrified out of her mind, drenched in sweat from her sprint from the house, standing in six inches of water, and now she was shivering on top of everything else.

Mr. Skovinzki, bless him, put his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

By some miracle, Mrs. Skovinzki had dropped her basket on the opposite side of the road from the ditch, so the soldiers were searching through the other ditch and the thick foliage on that side, first. Maggie didn’t understand why they didn’t think to even look in the ditch, but she thought it might have something to do with the way little J.J.’s face was scrunched up in concentration.

Whatever he was doing, it seemed to be working.

While obviously intensely grateful, Maggie was also rather alarmed at her little boy’s powers. If he could convince a troop of grown men that a perfectly logical hiding place was of no interest, what other manipulations was he capable of?

Once again, Maggie thanked the stars that Commander Skywalker had so readily offered to help train the boy. Maggie didn’t know what she would do otherwise.

J.J.’s eyes popped open all of the sudden and he gasped, “Daddy’s coming!”

Then the boy dropped against Mrs. Skovinzki’s shoulder in a dead faint.

A second later, there were shouts from the troopers and the distinctive sound of laser fire.

Maggie and the Skovinzki’s huddled closely together, and Maggie was grateful to see Mrs. Skovinzki pressing J.J.’s face to her shoulder and covering his ears to block out the cries of wounded and dying men, just in case. Mr. Skovinzki guided the women to crouch behind him as he took a stand between them and the conflict, pulling a blaster pistol from his pocket. He had to be at least seventy years old, but Maggie watched him spread his feet and broaden his wide shoulders, and she remembered that he had once been a military man.

All too quickly, the sounds on the road faded to nothing.

Then,

“Maggie?!”

It was her husband. He sounded . . . _terrified_.

Maggie opened her mouth, heart in her throat, but Mr. Skovinzki jerked to look back at her and shook his head sternly,

“Maggie, where are you?!”

It was all she could do to bite her tongue and cling to Mrs. Skovinzki.

A new voice, deep and steady, spoke to her husband on the road. “Lieutenant, she obviously wasn’t captured, so you have no reason to—”

Maggie didn’t hear what else was said because a man in white and red armor had appeared over the edge of the ditch, carrying a blaster rifle in ready position.

Mr. Skovinzki snapped his blaster up, but the trooper held up a hand in a calming gesture and lowered his weapon. “Steady on, there, geezer! We’re friendlies!”

“You’ll forgive me if’n I don’t take yer word for it,” Mr. Skovinzki growled.

Another soldier popped momentarily into view, however and then retreated with a shout of, “Sarge, over here!”

Mr. Skovinzki kept his blaster trained on the remaining man until he set his rifle on the ground. “Here, now, steady, we’re friendlies, like I said, see? Put down the blaster, old man, we’re here to protect the kid and his folks, and it looks like you are, too. Let’s give you a hand up, eh?”

More soldiers in the same uniform came, but Maggie didn’t pay them any more attention because her husband was here, flinging himself into the ditch, he was here, and she was in his arms, his cheek pressed on top of her curly hair, and everything was suddenly right with the world.

“Thank you,” Delayni said over the top of her head, to the Skovinzki couple.

“Ain’t nothing nobody wouldn’t do, neighbor,” Mr. Skovinzki said, clapping Delayni on the back. “You take care of that little wife of yores now—she’s a bit shook up, I ‘spect. Been a real trooper today.”

Delayni nodded and stroked Maggie’s hair, kissing the top of her head.

“J.J. said you were coming,” Maggie said with a sob, her voice muffled by his shoulder. “Then you were calling for me and I wanted to answer, you sounded so scared, but we weren’t sure, and—”

Delayni let her ramble and cry, stroking her hair with his strong, gentle hands. When Maggie finally fell silent, he explained, “J.J. told me you were in the ditch—he didn’t say which one,” Delayni huffed a laugh, and then held her tighter. “Then his voice stopped, and I thought—” He shuddered and fell silent.

“...Daddy...?”

Maggie and Delayni turned as one and opened their arms to take a groggy little boy from a quietly smiling Mrs. Skovinzki. The old woman wordlessly patted Maggie’s shoulder and then accepted help from the soldiers to join her husband on the road.

“J.J.,” Delayni said, cradling the back of J.J.’s head and beaming at him. “You were so brave, son, and I am so proud of you.”

J.J. smiled sleepily, though he obviously couldn’t keep his eyes open. The child curled into his father’s neck and quickly fell back asleep.

They were assisted out of the ditch, and Maggie only let go of her husband to give Mr. and Mrs. Skovinzki each a fierce hug. She was well aware that she owed them her life, and the remnants of the short battle was a stark reminder of that fact. Then Maggie pressed close to her husband as they were led back down to their house to pack up whatever they could carry for their immediate relocation.

Maggie snorted suddenly while they walked, and Delayni’s head snapped to look at her in alarm.

“Sorry, sorry!” she wheezed, wiping her eyes. “I just remembered I still have our lunch on the stove. We’ll either have hot nerf stew or a burned down house!”

At the mention of stew, little J.J. muttered something and unconsciously draped his arms around his father’s neck. Delayni smiled and reached up to hold J.J. more securely as he leaned down and whispered to Maggie, “I think he said he’s hungry. With our luck today, the house will be fine and the soup will be cold.”

And it was exactly that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the troopers must've turned off the stove for whatever reason. How thoughtful of them :D
> 
> The line that started this fic didn’t actually make it into the fic itself, but here it is anyway:  
> “I'm running on empty here!”  
>  _She trips, can’t run. An older couple helps her._
> 
> This is absolutely a callout to the "let's have a 20 minute chase scene" trope where no one's really ever out of breath at an inconvenient time. And I’ve had so many random older people show up just when I needed them in my life—nothing this dramatic of course, but I wanted to honor them in some small way. 
> 
> Also, for anyone else who needs it for their grammatical peace of mind (not that Mr. Skovinzki is all that worried about his grammar even on a good day, but for those of us who are):  
> It’s what anyone would do  
> It’s nothing anybody wouldn’t do (double negative)  
> Ain’t nothing nobody wouldn’t do (double-double negative)


	4. Touring the Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J.J. has the opportunity to go on a tour of the Lady with his father, who later regrets it.

"Ah, we're just in time!" Delayni brought J.J. to the window overlooking a huge training bay and took a knee beside his little boy, pointing, "See, son? They're running drills with the Walkers! I'm usually in the troop around Walker 8 over there—they're the fun ones. See how those men are running with the Walkers? They have to make sure not to get stepped on while they fight. See how they're running faster now, they're...son?"

J.J.'s hands and nose were pressed to the plexiglass, but he wasn't looking at the soldiers on the floor—he only had eyes for the Walkers.

"I wanna drive one of _those_ ," he declared.

Delayni frowned. Not that he didn't think the Walker pilots weren't worthy of respect—their cover fire could clear the enemy long before ground troops were in range, not to mention they were essentially sitting ducks in steel boxes, and that took guts no matter how thick the steel—but Delayni, like many other ground troopers, held the strong (though rather small-minded) opinion that a battle was not fought from his seat, but face to face, man to man. "Oh, it's not—that is—well, wouldn't you rather run on the ground? It's a lot faster."

Even the Walker pilots couldn't argue with that.

"Nuh-uh. They have bigger guns."

Well.

True.

Delayni recalled hearing his son gush about the speeders during one of their holocalls and eagerly redirected him. "How about those land speeders? Pretty neat, huh?"

J.J., however, just shrugged. "They're okay. How many people fit in a Walter, Daddy?"

_...Walter?_

_Oh._

Delayni briefly considering letting the misnomer slide—it would be a token repayment for the heartbreak of a son who chose a different career path than the one Delayni had been dreaming for him from the moment he knew he'd held his son in his arms.

However, Delayni was not a petty man. He could be noble, even in the face of heartbreak. "Wal _ker_ , son."

"Walker," J.J. repeated. "Is there only one person inside?"

Delayni gave vent to a huge sigh and reluctantly answered what questions he knew about the Walkers—which wasn't much, aside from what they were able to do and how to pull the crew out if they were shot down. That was all a ground trooper really needed to operate on.

After several iterations of "I don't know" from his father, J.J. frowned, "Why not?"

"Because that's not my job, son," Delayni said in exasperation. "I run on the ground. You'd have to ask someone who works inside one of those..." Again, out of sheer nobility, Delayni swallowed the _karking metal beasts_ , and let the statement hang.

And then he realized his mistake.

J.J. grabbed Delayni's hand and tugged towards the door.

"Come on, Daddy, let's talk to the Walker crew!"

With truly impeccable timing, General Veers himself appeared, rescuing Delayni from trying to reroute his eight-year-old son somewhere besides a military training routine.

Or so he thought.

"Lieutenant," Veers nodded, since Delayni had snapped to attention for his commanding officer. "What's this I hear about a Walker crew?"

Imitating his father's stance at attention as best he could, J.J. looked hopefully up at Veers and saluted. "I'd like to learn to drive a Walker, sir!"

Veers didn't even twitch, just stood there giving J.J. a hard stare, and Delayni found himself holding his breath like a rookie.

Because this was his _son_ , and he was talking to _General Veers_ , Iron Max, Butcher of Hoth—

Delayni could only pray that the rumors about the General's bleeding heart for children were true.

Finally, Veers stepped directly in front of J.J. and clasped his hands behind him, looking down at the boy as severely as any green trooper who had been foolish enough to approach him. "The correct term, soldier, is _pilot_ , not _drive_."

Without missing a beat and still holding a decent salute, J.J. barked, "I'd like to learn to pilot a Walker, sir!"

Veers nodded in approval. "Better. And why would a fine strapping young man like yourself want to pilot one of my Walkers when you could be on the ground, like your father?"

Delayni relaxed marginally—the General was on his side after all!

"I wanna protect the ones on the ground!" J.J. blurted. "And then I'd always come home! Well, probably," the boy amended thoughtfully.

Delayni flinched.

Veers, for his part, closed his eyes briefly, and then, and Delayni blinked a few times to make sure it was real, the General took a knee to look the boy in the eye. "If a Walker goes down, son, her crew doesn't always make it out. No one is _safe_ going into battle. That's not the point."

"No sir!" J.J. agreed. "The point is to protect people!"

"Hm." Veers had an unreadable expression—understanding, or pride, maybe? But Delayni had only seen Veers actually emote a handful of times, so he couldn't say for sure.

Standing up to his full height, Veers nodded once to himself and continued addressing the boy in front of him. "Well then, gentlemen, I believe it's time to pay the my Walker crews a visit."

Delayni inwardly groaned, and he knew some of it was showing on his face because Veers turned to him with a raised eyebrow. Whatever hopes he'd had of talking his son out of this new obsession were rapidly evaporating. "Sir..."

He wasn't even sure what he was planning to say, but Veers cut him off. "It wouldn't be a full tour of the Lady without the Walkers, would it, Lieutenant?"

It was rather alarming how quickly one could come to hate someone they had looked up to, even admired for years. Delayni choked out a "No, sir" because what else could he say, but inwardly he was bitterly recalling any kind word he'd ever said about Veers.

The man was a devil incarnate.

He even seemed to be laughing without moving a single muscle, though maybe Delayni was imagining that.

This was General Veers, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course we all know General Veers can be a deeply caring man, but for those who don't work closely with him, I imagine he can still be quite terrifying to talk to :D


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was colder than Maggie anticipated, and so she only went half as far on her daily walk. She came home to the beautiful sound of her husband and son laughing in the kitchen, but when she rounded the corner, her good mood evaporated. “Honey! I _just told you_ those were for the Johnstons!”
> 
> Jonathan Sr.'s widened—he’d _known_ there was a reason they were saving the cookies—and he looked down in horror first at the half-eaten cookie in his hand, and then, tragically, at his little boy.

Anakin looked up as the door opened and smiled at Maggie, who walked in with a baby on her hip, her husband at her side, and their older child trailing after them, holding Leia’s hand.

It had been some nine years since Anakin had first met Maggie in Henley’s medical bay, but apart from discretely sitting on Luke’s holocalls, Anakin had not interacted much the Delayni family. They appeared to be in good spirits, despite the nature of this visit.

Anakin stood and walked around his desk, shaking hands with Lieutenant Delayni and exchanging pleasantries with Maggie. The one-year-old baby she was holding was named Eli, and when Anakin spoke to him, he hid his chubby little face in his mother’s neck, but he looked strong and healthy, and Anakin could see his little smile at all the attention.

Finally, Anakin looked down to the older child, who was also trying to hide behind his mother. Leia's murmured platitudes helped coax him to stand up straight, though still holding her hand tightly and looking at the floor.

Anakin smiled gently. “Hello, young Jonathan.”

J.J.’s head snapped up and his jaw dropped. “You _know_ my _name_?” he asked in pure childlike wonder.

Anakin chuckled. “Yes, little one. I met you the day you were born.”

J.J.’s eyes grew the size of dinner plates, jaw still hanging wide open as he looked to his mother, who smiled and nodded. “Remember the Jedi who came and saved me?”

“Uh-huh!” J.J. had been told the story many, many times.

“This is him.”

J.J. turned back to Anakin and blurted, “But you’re bald!”

“J.J.!” his parents gasped, but Anakin just gave a deep, rumbling laugh, and Leia held a hand to her lips to hide her smile.

“Not all Jedi are as young and handsome as my children,” he acquiesced, a twinkle in his eye, “and more’s the pity.”

Growing somber, Anakin looked to J.J.’s mother, who was still blushing furiously at her son’s comment. Remembering to smile, Anakin asked gently, “I wonder if I might speak with young Jonathan alone for a while.”

With a small hesitation—she was a mother, after all, and did not part with her child lightly—Maggie nodded. “Of course.” She dropped a kiss on top of J.J.’s curly dark hair, earning an annoyed “ _Mom_!”, which she just smiled at. “Be good, J.J..”

Leia stepped forward and looped her arm with the young mother’s. “I know just the place for a nice quiet visit. We could have some tea or cocoa, if you’d like?”

Maggie agreed, “I’d like that,” and let herself be whisked away, her husband a firm, quiet presence at her side.

Anakin led J.J. to sit across from him at his desk, and then he waited.

Left alone, J.J. seemed to shrink, completely dwarfed by his surroundings. Anakin felt the boy probe him cautiously, and he answered the probe with a wordless greeting.

J.J., unused to other Force-sensitives, flinched back into his own mental space.

“You seem to have an aptitude for mental connections, young one,” Anakin remarked. “I understand you have been able to communicate with your parents over great distances this way—which is no easy feat, even for a trained Jedi.”

J.J. was hanging on every word.

“I was also given to understand that you’ve learned to influence others with the Force on numerous occasions.”

And at this, J.J. cringed, but nodded.

And this was the crux of the issue. Anakin was no stranger to its benefits when used against an enemy, but also the danger, disrespect, _insult_ that it was when used against his friends. He hoped he could communicate this to the boy with the proper gravity without traumatizing him.

“Force manipulation is a very . . . _delicate_ matter, young Jonathan, and should never be used lightly. Though I do not need the Force to see how ashamed you feel.”

Hanging his head again, J.J. nodded wordlessly, sniffling a little.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Anakin asked. He knew that there had been... incidents, but he wanted to hear it from the boy himself.

“I tricked my dad,” J.J. said in a small voice.

“How did you trick him?” Anakin leaned back and laced his fingers over his stomach, radiating _calm-peace-safety_ in the Force.

J.J. took heart at the gesture and raised his head, though his hands wrung the hem of his shirt fretfully. “Mom made cookies for the Johnstons. And I told Dad it was okay to eat them, even though Mom told us five gazillion times that they were for the Johnstons.”

When the boy fell silent, Anakin prompted, “Then what happened?”

Squirming, J.J. said, “Mom came home early from her walk and saw us eating the cookies. And Dad he looked at me like—like—” J.J.’s face twisted, and he looked down. “I’m really sorry.”

And he certainly was, Anakin thought, but there was a lingering stiffness in the boy’s words, a false note sounding in the Force, and Anakin decided the boy needed called on it. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, giving J.J. the full benefit of his penetrating blue stare.

“Are you sorry that you did it, or sorry that you were caught?”

J.J. stopped mid-nod when the full message dawned on him, and a complicated look crossed his face—surprise, enlightenment, shame, fear—before he hung his head and simply nodded.

Anakin didn’t need to ask him to clarify.

There had been other, more serious incidents that the boy’s parents had discussed with Luke in private holocalls, which J.J. couldn’t have known. He’d thought he was doing his due diligence for the event he had described, and though Anakin was determined to correct the behavior, he was more worried about the boy’s attitude and frame of mind. There were clearly misconceptions there that must be nipped in the bud before they became more ingrained.

So they talked about power and the dangers of abusing it. They talked about the importance of children listening to parents, and of trust, and thinking through the consequences of certain choices, and how intrinsically connected choices are to consequences in general. Anakin shared several stern warnings on that topic, emphasizing that special people like themselves had even bigger consequences to consider.

After about half an hour of this, they sat in silence for a few minutes while J.J. absorbed it all. Anakin had found him teachable, thankfully, and he was confident that it had been a beneficial conversation.

Now, J.J. seemed to have collected his thoughts, and the boy sighed heavily. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so special.”

Anakin cocked his head at that. It was a thought many younglings in the Jedi Temple had had, he knew, though not one that had plagued him personally. “Why not?”

J.J. gave him an annoyed look, as if it were a trivial question. “Cause we wouldn’t have to run all the time.” They had talked at length about J.J.’s feeling that he had to protect his family from _the bad guys,_ as J.J. put it. “And I could stay with my family, instead of moving with Master Luke for training. And then my mom and dad wouldn’t be scared of me. Or scared that Eli will be like me.”

That last bit was new. Anakin could only imagine how it must feel to be raising a child with powers he couldn’t understand—he struggled enough with his own children even with the Force on his side, and both of them full grown.

He made a mental note to see that the baby was formally tested, so that the Delayni couple could have their peace of mind.

“Jonathan,” Anakin began, and then paused, choosing his words carefully. “Some of this will always be part of you, that is true. However, it is your choice whether you want to be trained in the ways of the Force, or to let your powers fade.”

J.J. blinked. And blinked again.

“I can . . . choose?” he whispered.

“Yes, young one. You can choose,” Anakin nodded. “But remember that with a choice . . . .”

“. . . comes consequences,” J.J. echoed from their earlier discussion.

“And we do not choose the consequences, no matter how much we may want to,” Anakin repeated. He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his jaw. “I do not believe our enemies will stop hunting you, now that they know of you, even if you were to make that choice, Jonathan.”

“. . . but I could stay with my family. I could be _normal_.”

“From a certain point of view,” Anakin conceded. “But this is not something that you need to choose _today_ , young one. Think on it, discuss it with your parents, and we will speak of it again in time. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Uh-huh,” J.J. nodding, sliding out of his seat. He paused, and then smiled shyly. “Can we see the Walkers on our way?”

The training bays weren’t on their way at all, but Anakin recognized an obsession when he saw one, and he smiled. “Of course. I’m sure General Veers would be glad to see us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I watched the Ahsoka episode of _The Mandalorian_ , her line about letting a youngling’s abilities fade really struck me. That, and the fact that I see lots of fanfics about the importance of letting people choose to be trained in the Force, but not a lot of fanfics about people who choose not to train.
> 
> Edit:  
> Wow.   
> Wow wow wow!!  
> 90 views, guys!!  
> 90 views. In 2 days.  
> You all are incredible.


	6. Ten Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hesitate with such a big time jump because I don’t know that we’d have the same character base and setting to draw from, but assuming we do....

It had been about a year since J.J. had officially joined a Walker crew aboard the Lady. His crew included Commander Lyntressa, an untalkative no-nonsense blue twi’lek, and Toh Bay, a small but very sassy rusty-furred Lurmen. The unlikely trio got along well, and quickly gained a reputation for working in perfect synergy in both training exercises and the field.

It wasn’t all that uncommon for new recruits to spend a training session or two with J.J.’s crew, partly because J.J., Lyntressa, and Toh Bay were exemplary at their jobs, and partly because of what they represented as a cross-species crew running a Walker aboard a Super Star Destroyer for the New Republic. It was very inspiring to see, according to most new recruits.

Some recruits, however, didn’t see it that way immediately. Most of those were Imperial defectors of some sort or another and still overcoming old prejudices.

J.J. and his crew learned not to be too sensitive.

So when a human woman in her twenties came aboard and shrieked in disgust to see little Toh Bey in the co-pilot’s seat, the Lurmen wasn’t at all offended, though Commander Lyntressa still frowned and J.J. withheld a sigh.

To her credit, however, their visitor recomposed herself with impressive speed. She had dark skin and brown eyes, and her thick hair was done up neatly into a bun under her hat. She turned to Lyntressa, only gulped once, and then introduced herself in a lofty tone that they all recognized as Inner Core. “Communications tech Beth Campden, reporting to Commander Lyntressa.”

Lyntressa cocked her head slightly. “Communications?”

Beth waited a moment, but when it became apparent that Lyntressa wasn’t going to elaborate her question, she hurried to explain. "It was suggested that I be retrained in a new field.”

Yes, J.J. could well understand that suggestion. Not all defectors proved true to the New Republic cause, after all, and their superiors would rather invest in cross training than let someone with questionable loyalty anywhere close to a communications board.

Lyntressa nodded, but then cocked her head again when a shrill whistle of a droid sounded close behind Beth. J.J. startled as Beth lurched forward, but he relaxed when he saw the red and white R8 unit running directly into the back of her knees, still beeping and trilling at her.

“Ye brought company, I see,” Toh Bey grinned, standing on his seat and resting his elbows across its back.

“Yes,” Beth sighed. “This is R8-5Z—I usually call him Zee. He’s a bit stuffy, fair warning.”

The droid wailed at her, and Beth rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Och, don’ ye worry, miss, he’ll fit right in with Commander Lyn,” Toh Bey snorted, waggling his furry eyebrows at the Commander.

The Twi’lek snapped around to glare at him, her light blue lekku swinging about her shoulders. “Lyn _tressa_ ,” she growled.

Toh Bey just grinned wider, showing all his crooked teeth, and Lyntressa’s nostrils flared as they began a silent staring contest. Beth looked from one to the other nervously, but J.J. shook his head. “Don’t mind them, Beth. This is a daily thing.”

Zee twittered curiously as Lyntressa stalked closer to Toh Bey, who stood up straight on his chair, both unblinking. Lyntressa scowled furiously and Toh Bey’s grin turned predatory, and still they went on in silence.

Beth slid alongside J.J., out of the line of fire, and her droid followed her with an amused _blat_ , content to watch the stare down.

“Are they always like this?” she whispered.

“Pretty much,” J.J. shrugged, lifting his cap to run a hand through his tightly curly black hair. “I think it’s their morning warmup or something. So, where you from?”

“Coruscant, originally. You?”

J.J. waved a hand in a broad gesture. “Oh, everywhere. We moved around a lot.”

“Military family?” Beth asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Beth looked curious. “What do you mean?”

J.J. just shrugged, offering an easy smile. “It’s complicated.” He had decided a long time ago not to lie to people about his childhood, but there was a big difference between lying and declining to explain. Not that it was any big secret on the Lady—he was _born_ here, after all—but he didn’t like to talk about it, and especially not with people he’d just met.

Beth seemed to draw her own conclusions and winced. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

She was interrupted by her droid chortling and Toh Bey throwing his hands in the air and shouting, “Yaha! I win again! Ye shall never defeat me, Commander Lyn!!”

Lyntressa, however, didn’t look the least bit angry for having lost the contest. Instead, she actually smiled a little and patted Tob Bey’s head, which caused the Lurmen to squawk in indignation, and then she resumed her post behind the two pilot chairs, her hands clasped behind her back and her expression locked down in professional stoicism once more.

Glancing at Beth, Lyntressa jerked her chin towards a spare seat. “Sit.”

Beth gave her an irritated huff, but J.J. smiled at her charmingly, and that caught her off guard. She forced a smile back and obeyed the order, settling in to watch the Walker crew run through their preliminary checks. The chair was strategically placed to be out of their way but offered her a decent view of what the pilots were doing.

The training exercises started up shortly afterwards, and Beth couldn’t help but be impressed. The crew’s unity was seamless, even with Lyntressa biting out short commands and Toh Bey’s incessant snarky comments. J.J. always knew when to laugh and when to call Toh Bey’s attention back to the matter at hand. The Lurmen had to stand up to reach some of the controls, his crash webbing just barely loose enough to allow him to do so, but he and J.J. worked in perfect synchronization as the herd of Walkers turned about in a variety in complex maneuvers. Slow maneuvers, yes, but complex.

“It’s not about speed, Beth,” J.J. called, as if reading her mind. “It’s about precision, coordination, and being exactly _where_ you’re supposed to be exactly _when_ you’re supposed to be there.”

Beth gave him a hard stare, more than a little creeped out by the timing of his comment, but then Toh Bey sighed dramatically, “Do ye have to tell that to _every_ greenie who comes aboard, lad?”

“Gets old,” Lyntressa grunted in agreement, breaking her formality for the first time since maneuvers began.

J.J. laughed, confessing, “I always get impatient at this part.”

“Oooh, so ye were talkin’ to _yeself_ all this time?” Toh Bey drawled. “So ye admit it—ye _are_ crazy!”

J.J. rolled his eyes, but he was smiling when he glanced back at Beth. “That’s another thing, Beth. If you work on a Walker, you get to know your crew so well, you either have to love ‘em or hate ‘em.”

Toh Bey reached over and flicked J.J.’s arm. “Och, if yer daddy could hear ye gabbin’ away now. I reckon ye’ll step on him someday, and I’ll be the one to tell yer Mam that ye were too busy flirtin’ to watch where ye’re puttin’ yer feet!”

“Alright, first of all—oh, watch your left there, yep, you got it—first of all, if anyone steps on my dad, it’ll be _you_ and that back foot you always forget about at the worst times. Second— I’m not _flirting_. I do have a girlfriend, you know.”

“ _If_ she exists,” Toh Bey sniggered.

“Why would I make up an imaginary girlfriend, Toh Bey? What would—”

“Twenty degrees right turn,” Lyntressa cut in. Relaying orders seemed to be the only reason she used more than a word or two.

J.J. and Toh Bey made a couple adjustments and then resumed their discussion as if there hadn’t been a pause at all.

“—what would be the point? I’d have absolutely nothing to gain.”

“Aye, nothin’ except a convenient excuse to turn down every pretty girl to bat her lashes at ye, ye heartbreaker.”

J.J. snorted. “That’s not even—where do you even get that idea? Girls don’t even _like_ me!”

Toh Bey hmphed and flicked his tail.

“Debatable,” Lyntressa said without taking her eyes off the scopes.

The banter continued in a steady stream until Zee got it into his circuits that he could add to the conversation—his dome swiveled towards the Twi’lek as he shared few _exceptionally rude_ clicks and beeps, and Beth stopped breathing for a moment, looking around, but the Walker crew had already carried on without acknowledging the comment—with the exception of Lyntressa, who slowly turned towards the droid with a fire in her eyes.

Beth rushed to explain, “I’m _so sorry_ , he still has an Imperial imprint—I haven’t had time to reprogram him yet.”

Lyntressa’s fury diminished, though her lips remained pressed in a thin line as she nodded once.

J.J. looked back at them curiously while Toh Bey was ranting about something or other, but then new orders came through and the incident was immediately forgotten.

Beth let out a quiet sigh of relief. She knew the droid was a blight on the universe, knew that it had been a risk to take him with her, but that had been _awful_. She was glad she’d thought ahead and been prepared to explain that reprogramming bit. It was the truth, after all.

Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this idea suddenly got long. I have an idea of where it'll end up, but I'm not sure how long it'll take to get there--my OCs suddenly wanted _screen time_ and _personalities_ , and I wasn't prepared for that--but probably just one or two more chapters. Stay tuned!
> 
> Also, although Lurmen are generally known as pacifists, I imagine that isn't true of _all_ of them, so I allowed myself to have some fun here.


End file.
